Lucky Me
by ArwenJaneLilyLyra
Summary: He cannot speak the truth. It shall remain hidden behind his lips. Let Tony think what he thinks. Maxxie knows the truth, and he shall keep it locked away, out of sight…out of mind… - TS/MO implied; mentions of Russia


Lucky Me

**He cannot speak the truth. It shall remain hidden behind his lips. Let Tony think what he thinks. Maxxie knows the truth, and he shall keep it locked away, out of sight…out of mind…**

"Oh fuck shit bugger wank bollocks pissing arsehole!"

Maxxie smiled, not looking up from his sketchpad as he continued to doodle two ballet dancers on the crème paper, their limbs entwined and their faces tilted towards one another. "Yep," he sighed, just loudly enough for his companion to hear. "Old Tony's definitely on his way back," he chuckled.

"Piss off, gayboy" Tony growled. Maxxie's eyes flitted up only long enough to catch the raven haired boy's gaze for moment before returning to his work, the smile that played on his lips fond and utterly lacking in offense.

Tony was sat in front of his desk, his face screwed up in concentration as he glared down at the innocent page before him as if it had done him a terrible wrong. His fist was clenched tightly around a ballpoint pen that looked in danger of snapping if he gripped it any harder, and Maxxie glanced down at the pencil case by his side. They were running out of pens.

"But I did it yesterday!" Tony bellowed at his trembling hand, frustration eating away at him, hoping that yelling some more would bring back the sudden burst of usefulness to his hand that had gone as far as actually writing his name only the day before.

"Take your time, it'll come back to you," Maxxie murmured encouragingly.

"Like you care," Tony snapped. The blonde raised his eyebrows; Tony bit his lip, looking almost guilty. "Sorry," he mumbled reluctantly, "It's just so bloody annoying!"

"I know," Maxxie sighed, placing the sketchbook on Tony's bed, which he was stretched out on, and standing up to place his hands on either side of his friend's shoulders. Almost unconsciously he began to rub his thumbs routinely into the tense shoulder blades, kneading at the knots he found. Tony winced, flexing his head back and smiling at the relief that began to flood through his arms.

"Thanks," he said.

"Hmm," Maxxie replied disbelievingly, "Don't know why I bother really," he said with a cheeky grin.

"Because you're a pushover and cave in to my bullying every time, and at the drop of a hat will readily storm…serve…_sacrifice_ your sunny days to waste hours at a time helping me, the useless retard," Tony said, gasping as he struggled for words and spitting the end of his sentence out, throwing the pen back onto the paper and watching it bounce several times before landing next to the TV remote. Maxxie saw with disappointed eyes that the paper was covered in random scribbles, all of which showed no sign of coherency.

"You need to stop trying so hard," Maxxie encouraged. "First time I tried a pirouette, I fell flat on my face. Then I tried again, and I fell over. I kept trying and eventually I sprained my ankle."

"How cheerful, thanks for the moral support, dumbass," Tony butted in, but Maxxie continued to talk, ignoring his disparaging tone.

"After a while I went back to it, and I did a perfect pirouette, but nobody was around to watch me. I fetched my dad and tried again, but when I lifted my foot and turned…" Maxxie sniggered at the memory. "I fell over again. It took me a while to work out how I'd done it that time, but once I did…well, I haven't fallen over since."

Tony's head snapped back once more to look up at his friend, brows knitted together and mouth set in a stubborn grimace.

"Aww, sweet," he simpered, "Maxxie, I really don't care whether or not you can do prissy ballet moves or not. The point is, I have fallen from genius to retard, and can't even write my fucking name anymore. Thanks for the tender story, but it isn't really going to help me, is it?"

Maxxie rolled his eyes, stepping backwards and clambering over to his seat among Tony's pillows. Without a word he picked up his sketchbook once more and began tracing faded lines around the couple, creating basic scenery to enhance the fine details of their faces. His tongue began protruding from between his lips as he concentrated hard, perfecting the strong lines of the man's arms and the arc of the woman's waist. He held the picture out with an extended arm, narrowing his eyes as he scrutinised his work.

Looking to the side, he noticed Tony had given up on his writing and was sat watching him.

"What?"

"Can you not do that?"

"Do what?" Maxxie cried, taken aback by the venom in Tony's words.

"Flaunt your art skills while I'm stuck at square one."

Maxxie pressed his lips together ruefully, sliding the sketchpad under the bed out of sight and blushing guiltily. "Sorry Tone," he mumbled.

"Yeah, aren't we all," Tony grumbled, returning his glare from the blond boy to a fresh piece of paper.

Not wanting to be angry at Maxxie – after all, it wasn't exactly _his_ fault, as much as Tony would have liked to dump all his problems onto one person and rightfully vent his bottled resentment – Tony returned to the task at hand. Fumbling only a little, he reclaimed the pen that had been thrown unceremoniously onto the desk with lethargic fingers and swallowed hard.

After sighing once, deeply and slowly, he closed his stinging eyes and lowered the pen onto the paper. Lids remaining firmly shut, he delicately traced the lines pictured in his head one by one, teeth biting down on the insides of his cheeks in meditation. The world seemed to fall silent as he imagined the words, and soon one word became two; and two became three; and born from them was an entire sentence. Even the light scratching of Maxxie's graceful drawing on the sketchpad that had been carefully retrieved from under the bed dimmed to nothing. Once he was finished, Tony kept his eyes shut for a few moments longer, almost as if he was afraid to look.

Carefully, deliberately, he opened his eyelids and stared down at the page beneath his hands. He heard the creak of the bed as Maxxie rolled off it once more to stand behind him. He looked up at the blond boy by his side, smiling.

Maxxie was flushed with a mixture of gratitude and pride.

_I'm sorry Maxxie. Youre a good friend._

"Missed the apostrophe," Maxxie tapped the empty space above the _u _and the _r_ firmly, tutting playfully.

"Fuck you," Tony said, his voice still friendly as he swatted the blond's hand away.

The two boys remained quiet for a moment, totally absorbed by the wonky letters, before Tony broke the silence with half a chuckle

"I was going to say I appreciate it as well, but it was too much effort."

Maxxie laughed softly, patting the dark haired boy's back and nodding to show his understanding. "It's nothing," he whispered.

"Go on…what have you drawn then?" Tony asked patronisingly, like a parent giving in to a nagging child's demands. Maxxie rolled his eyes, fetched his sketchpad, and handed it to his friend. Tony whistled in appreciation. "Impressive," he peered down at the minute detail of the two dancers. They looked almost alive, subtle shading enhancing their every curve. "Better hope you don't get hit by a bus, Max," Tony said languidly, flicking through the book, though he'd seen the rest of the pictures before, stealing glances whenever his friend wasn't looking. "You wouldn't want to lose this talent."

"I'll take that as a twisted compliment," Maxxie replied.

"You should," Tony said good-naturedly, "It was meant as one." Maxxie shook his head as he took back the book and threw it onto the bed, perching on the edge of the mattress as he did so. "What?" Tony asked, confused by the short abrupt exhale of Maxxie's breath.

"Nothing," Maxxie said simply, shrugging his shoulder and lying back to look up at the ceiling above. Still able to feel the intense stare of Tony's overly blue eyes, Maxxie sighed. "Still not quite used to the lack of sarcasm in your voice when you hand out compliments," he explained with an airy wave of his hand.

"Oh," Tony said shortly, eyes moving to roam around his room, resting on the picture of himself and his sister that sat by his bedside. It was his turn to sigh, and he did so with a twinge of regret in his chest. He was sure, so sure, that once upon a time the picture by his head as he slept had been of himself and Michelle, not Effy.

"It's a good thing," Maxxie prompted, worried by the lack of reply but not quite bothering to move from his comfortable position. "Trust me."

Tony smiled sadly.

"I really fucked up, didn't I?" he asked longingly. Maxxie frowned at the brusqueness of the statement..

"What do you mean?"

"I've heard enough about what I did before the accident to know I was a total wanker, Maxxie," Tony mumbled, turning back to his desk and staring at the wall in front of him.

Maxxie licked his lips uncomfortably.

"Doesn't make a difference if I'm sorry now…I probably wouldn't be if I was still myself," Tony continued bitterly. It had been a while since he been down this path, and was yet to properly vent this to Maxxie, so he took the opportunity and didn't stop speaking, even when Maxxie showed clear signs of interrupting. "I drove everyone away. I wanted so badly to remember, and when I couldn't remember, I used to ask people. I don't anymore though. I don't like the answers. A part of me wants to go back to the old Tony, to feel like myself again…but another part of me hates that I was like that. That I used people, and hurt them, and was a manipulative arsehole. It's made everything so much more complicated now."

"Tony, you're making it sound like you were all bad. You weren't, honestly mate," Maxxie said softly, but Tony shook his head, choking on his words that had lodged in his throat.

"At least it's easy enough to work out who I hurt," he spat wearily.

"What do you mean?" Maxxie asked.

"The people that don't talk to me…they hate me. I hurt loads of people…Michelle and Sid especially. Now they don't come near me. I hurt them bad, I figure. But you?" he glanced briefly over his shoulder, but turned back to the wall before he could notice that the blond was totally still, barely breathing in anticipation. "You're still here. I wasn't like that to you, was I? I never hurt you like that."

…_dirty little slut who fucks around with other peoples boyfriends…_

…_we're in Russia! I want to try something new…_

…_it's all my fault…_

Maxxie closed his eyes firmly. He couldn't say it. Not now. Not ever. Breathing slowly, making sure to clear his throat to remove the lie clogging his words, he nodded to the ceiling.

"I suppose you're right…lucky me, I guess."


End file.
